


Week 6: Statice / Remembrance

by DramioneLDWS



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24721798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DramioneLDWS/pseuds/DramioneLDWS
Summary: Each chapter is an individual drabble written by a single participant.Please mind the tags/triggers at the top of each entry. Only major Archive warnings will be noted.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 27
Kudos: 36
Collections: Dramione Last Drabble Writer Standing - Round 1





	1. Façades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Façades  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 498  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [I_was_BOTWP](https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_was_BOTWP/pseuds/I_was_BOTWP)

_Cemeteries carry a quiet beauty, even if they're merely façades meant for the living. Expansive oak trees no one ever climbs shade quiet corners, and moss-covered angels hover above lovers' final poems carved into stone—all without any effect on the dead buried below._

These inappropriate thoughts flitted through Hermione's head as she carefully dug around Astoria's grave, pretending that what they did here made a difference. 

"Scorpius, hand me the statice, please." He looked confused, and she clarified, "The purple flowers."

It wasn't that Hermione wanted to erase Astoria from Draco and Scorpius' lives, she told herself as she filled the hole in around the statice. 

On the contrary, she felt a duty to preserve and enhance the legacy of the woman who had come before her. Without Astoria's guiding hand, the Draco of today wouldn't have been possible, and the sweet boy next to her wouldn't exist.

She just didn't understand pretending a visit to a headstone proved they remembered her. 

"Hermione, can I dig the next hole?"

"Of course you can. Then your dad can take the last one." Catching Draco's eye, she smiled.

Before Draco began dating Hermione, he had brought Scorpius here to leave bouquets. Based upon the positive progression in their relationship, Hermione had felt comfortable enough to broach planting a few permanent flowers together. 

Draco tousled his son's hair. "Which one do you want?"

"Maybe the pink roses?"

"That leaves the lilies for me."

Using some discreet spellwork, Hermione assisted with Scorpius thinking he was doing more work than a seven-year-old was capable of. A mouthed, "Thanks," from Draco had her thinking maybe she could do this mum gig after all.

That thought inadvertently led to a small spiral of guilt. They had been taking things slowly, carefully, for Scorpius' sake. Now here she was _literally_ sitting atop Astoria's dead body, contemplating taking her place.

_What's wrong with me? Don't put the carriage before the Thestral._

"Hermione?" A small hand tugged at hers, drawing her back from her thoughts. "You okay?"

"Just thinking about how these plants will continue growing each year, like you. It's called maturing. Your mum would be so proud of how mature you're becoming, and of how thoughtful you are."

"It's true, Scorp. She may be on the other side of the veil, but the best pieces of her live on in here," Draco touched both of their hearts, "and in you."

When Scorpius' lip quivered, Draco didn't hesitate to pull him into a hug. "Sometimes I feel like I'm forgetting her," the boy sobbed.

Draco rubbed his back. "I know. How about we plant this lily together, while I tell Hermione some of your mum's horrible jokes. Then we'll go to Fortescue's and order your mum's favorite, Chocolate-Covered Cherry Bomb."

Scorpius continued to sniffle, but nodded. 

As Draco started digging a hole and cracked the first bad joke, Hermione thought that _these_ were the sort of happy remembrances she wanted for Scorpius, rather than just solemn façades.


	2. Status Quo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Status Quo  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 498  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [Kyonomiko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyonomiko/pseuds/Kyonomiko)

Draco absolutely can’t fucking believe it. She _agreed_. Hermione Granger agreed to dinner: a private date. 

After years of working together, he made his move and feels endlessly fortunate she would give him this chance. Granger is the kindest, most brilliant witch he knows.

Not to mention, she has killer legs and a head full of fuck-me hair he can’t wait to thread his fingers through.

He’s near her office when he hears the object of his most ardent and inappropriate affection chatting with her friend, the agitatingly earnest Harry Potter.

“I just don’t see the appeal. Money, I suppose,” the wizard offers with a nasty little chuckle.

She scoffs to Draco’s relief. “Please. I do just fine on my own. He is handsome though, and terribly witty.” In the corridor, Draco preens at her assessment.

“And, of course,” she adds, “I have a weakness for status.”

With a bit of a double-take, Draco backs away quietly.

 _That_ , Draco didn’t expect. If there was anyone he thought immune to the pull of his name, it was Granger. It’s disappointing, to be sure, but perhaps should have been expected. She’s on the fast track to Minister, and the name ‘Malfoy’, regardless of wartime tarnish, still carries weight.

He tells himself it doesn’t matter, that his prestige is simply a way to get what he wants, just as it’s always been. 

And what he wants, is her.

At the restaurant, however, some exclusive place that his name can access, Draco grows more bitter by the hour. His surly demeanor has managed to snuff out her usually sunny disposition.

Granger’s hand lays across the cheque the moment their server delivers it. “I can cover my half,” she says, stiff and cold. “I apologize for however I’ve soured our evening, but let’s not add financial debt to the mix.”

“Nonsense,” he says, plucking the parchment away. “What do I have to offer if not my background, right?”

He feels her eyes on him as he marks his Gringotts credentials.

“I thought you had a lot to offer,” she says softly. “Draco, I…Those flowers you sent, with all of my favorites…”

He looks at her but stills his tongue, waiting. 

“You likely didn’t realize, but you sent status." At his very confused look, she repeats, "Status. Sea lavender? Tiny purple blossoms? That’s my mother's favorite. I've not seen her since before the war, and it just felt like a sign.”

Status. _Statice_. 

Oh, fucking fuck, Draco is an complete idiot. He backpedals like dementors are on his heels. 

"Granger, I apologize. I had a difficult day, and I've been dreadful company. Please allow me a nightcap to make it up to you?"

She hesitates, and he can’t quite get a breath. All of this over such a silly misunderstanding. When finally she agrees, his heart starts to beat again.

Later, In a tiny bistro, two glasses of champagne going warm between them, Draco kisses her and buries his fingers in that luxurious hair.


	3. Façades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Invited  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 483  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [Art3misiA](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Art3misiA/pseuds/Art3misiA)

Draco looked up from his work, disturbed by a tap on his window. He opened it and the owl swooped in, landing heavily on his desk. The poor animal was weighed down with letters. “It’s an invitation to some ridiculous event, isn’t it?” he sighed. It hooted as if to confirm.

“I decline,” he snapped, flicking his hand in dismissal. “Take it away.”

The owl did not take it away. Instead, it pecked at his fingers, gave him a look as if to say, _my job is hard enough as it is. Don’t be difficult,_ and thrust out its leg.

“Fine,” Draco grumbled. Thumbing through the names, he abruptly stopped at one. _Hermione Granger._ The owl clicked its beak impatiently at him, and he continued to search until he found his own letter. As soon as he removed it, the bird flew off. 

Breaking the seal, he removed the slip of paper and scanned the information. It was for a school reunion, of all things, with the host none other than Lavender Brown. “Why am I not surprised?” he muttered. Leaning back in his chair, he considered his options. Ordinarily, he wouldn't be caught dead at such an occasion. But if _she_ might be there…

* * *

Draco arrived at the venue and immediately met Theo Nott. He shook his former housemate’s hand, then glanced around the room and snorted. There were so many decorations and flowers scattered about that he was amazed any of the guests were able to orient themselves. “Brown went a bit overboard with the statice, don’t you think?” he remarked.

“Actually,” said a voice behind him, “I chose the flowers.”

He turned to find himself facing none other than the witch he dreaded - and yet needed - to see. Hermione Granger stood in front of him with her hands on her hips, looking slightly offended.

“Bit depressing, don’t you think, Granger? Choosing a remembrance flower for a reunion?”

Granger rolled her eyes at him. “Did you not pay attention in Herbology? Statice are often displayed at reunions to celebrate the coming together of old friends. They also represent success. That makes them entirely appropriate for this event.”

“Ignore him,” Theo interjected. “He’s just nervous because he’s been dying to see you. Nervousness makes his natural prattiness come out.”

 _“Theo!”_ Draco hissed. He could feel his face burning. He sneaked a glance at Granger, and to his surprise, her cheeks were flushed, too.

“I’ll leave you two to get reacquainted.” Theo smirked and sauntered off into the crowd, leaving them to stare uncomfortably at each other.

“I—I’m sorry,” he said at last. She looked at him questioningly. “For everything,” he explained. _Gods,_ this was awkward. 

After a moment, she nodded. “Thank you.”

He sighed. “Merlin, I need a drink.”

Granger quirked her lips. “This way.” She began moving through the throng. Draco smiled at the implied invitation and followed, feeling hopeful.


	4. Thirty-One Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Thirty-One Rules  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 498  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [LumosLyra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LumosLyra/pseuds/LumosLyra)

The stack of cards in Draco’s hands seemed to be growing exponentially larger each time he flipped through them. Arranged in order of the colour of their petals, thanks to Granger and her incessant need for organization, the stack of cards were part of Draco’s study materials for the eighth and final written examination he needed in order to obtain his Mastery in Advanced Potion Making.

_Floral Properties and their Implications in Potioncraft_

For as far back as he could remember, Draco had watched his Godfather in the potions lab as the stoic man brewed. The first time, he’d snuck in without his Godfather noticing, but thereafter he was chased out when his presence triggered the wards Severus had placed on the bright and airy space near the greenhouses. 

It took several weeks of persuasion and a bit of pleading on his mother’s part, but once Severus realized Draco could sit perfectly still, make no noise, and fade into the background on a tiny stool in the corner―away from anything volatile—he’d allowed Draco to sit and watch as he brewed. His deep baritone filled the space as he lectured Draco about safety precautions and only once Draco was able to recite all 31 rules in order, from memory—a seemingly impossible task for a young boy—did Severus allow him to move his stool closer to the potions bench. 

Helping to brew potions came later when Draco was much older and his fingers were no longer sticky with sweets the elves would sneak him. It began with being allowed to fetch clean tongs, stirring rods, and specific jarred ingredients from the myriad of shelves along the south wall. Only once he’d proven he was not prone to dropping things, did his Godfather allow him to count stirs aloud, select the appropriate stirring rod with supervision, and crush petals and leaves in the mortar. 

Slowly, Draco worked his way up to brewing his first potion under his Godfather’s supervision. From start to finish, the process was thrilling from each precise slice to counter-clockwise stir and though Severus said nothing, his dark eyes shone with pride. 

Draco slept with his first _Cure for Boils_ beneath his pillow for two weeks before his mother found it and tucked it away in a cabinet. 

It had been a lifelong dream since that first potion—and one that he wasn’t certain he would be able to accomplish when his wand was snapped and an anti-magic band was placed around his wrist simply because he bore the Dark Mark. 

It had taken Granger two years of badgering the Wizengamot for the band to be removed and another full year and a half for his wand to be reinstated just so he would be able to brew again. 

Draco flipped through the cards another time, closing his eyes and reciting the properties listed once he viewed the sketch of each flower, beginning mid-way through the purple section with statice before moving on to columbine.

He could do this.


	5. Let Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Let Go  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 494  
> Warnings: Major Character Death
> 
> AUTHOR: [FaeOrabel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaeOrabel/pseuds/FaeOrabel)

Scorpius walked into the dark room. He walked over to the windows and opened the curtains, letting the sunshine in. He knew she hated it, but it was time to get up and start the day. 

He saw her turn over in bed a little, refusing to take the covers from over her head. 

“Well, that just won’t do.” He said, softly smiling. 

He walked over to the bathroom and poured her a glass of water. Setting it on the nightstand, he sat on the edge of her bed, placing a hand on her back. 

She looked at him, not knowing who this man was that was in her room, being so nice to her. She probably thought he was one of her nurses. 

“Do you need help getting up?” Scorpius asked with a kind smile still on his face. He never let her see how her lack of recognition affected him. 

She nodded slowly. He helped her to the bathroom. This is why Lyra usually took the morning shift, but with another baby ready to pop out at any minute, Scorpius offered to cover for her. 

He walked around the room, waiting for her to finish, looking at the photos that covered her walls. There were photos of all the grandkids. The newest one showed Scorpius’ eldest daughter boarding the Hogwarts Express in September. Next were photos he wasn’t there for, unless you looked closely enough in one of the wedding pictures to see the slight bump in the bride’s tummy. Grandpa Lucius never let dad forget that. 

He walked over to her breakfast nook by the bay window and refreshed the flowers. Statices. Lyra thought he was being morbid, but truly he didn’t care. He’d never lose hope. 

Alzheimer’s was the last thing anyone thought would take down the ‘Golden Girl,’ unfortunately it also happened to be the one thing the Wizarding World knew about as much as the Muggles did. 

They could make her comfortable, but they couldn’t bring back her memory. 

The bathroom door opened and Scorpius immediately went to her side. He brought her over to the table, and he summoned breakfast and her water. 

“I know what you’re doing, and I wanted to let you know that you don’t have to,” Scorpius said after a moment. He chewed before continuing, swallowing hard. “Lyra will understand. You were there for her first two when no one thought you’d be. You gave her that. You can let go, mum.”

Scorpius covered her hand with his and smiled at her, even though he knew she couldn’t truly understand. He just hoped that — deep down — she did. 

She smiled blankly back at him and went back to her eggs, but Scorpius’ breath caught when she squeezed his hand. He wiped his cheek with his free hand. The rest of the morning passed in silence.  
The day _after_ Lyra welcomed Jean into the world, Hermione Malfoy joined her husband once again.


	6. May 2nd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: May 2nd  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 498  
> Warnings: Mentions of Mental Illness, PTSD
> 
> AUTHOR: [Msmerlin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Msmerlin/pseuds/Msmerlin)

The breeze was hot as it brushed across Hermione's skin, fluttering her dress as she moved down the path that bisected the Hogsmead Memorial Cemetery.

Ten years had passed since the war, and the after-shocks of the battle were still felt. Just when she assumed everything was finally at peace, they cracked the foundation of their still-recovering community.

She’d entered therapy before the start of her 8th year.

In retrospect she wasn’t surprised, but when she’d received her PTSD diagnosis all those years ago, it felt jarring. She was broken, and, she’d assumed, irreparable. Time and patience proved that to not be the case.

It was only when she came to terms with her childhood—or rather lack thereof, that Hermione was able to find forgiveness.

She forgave the Death Eaters who’d tried to take her life, and the childhood bullies for their xenophobic rhetoric.

She’d even forgiven Tom Riddle—he had been just as broken as her, and without the proper support system.

For years she’d avoided this place, but four years ago she finally came on the Day of Remembrance. It'd been emotional, seeing the names of friends etched into the pristine stone, permanent reminders of too-short lives.

As she’d walked through the grounds, finally taking it all in, she couldn’t help but notice the far corner of the cemetery.

Neglected.

Overgrown.

The section where the fallen Death Eaters were buried. Names of those whose faces had plagued her nightmares carved into stone. Unlike the others, these gravesites were weathered and crumbling, even six short years after being erected.

No flowers or notes from loved ones. The only things that covered their final resting places were weeds and dried leaves.

It was on that first visit Hermione realised the disparities between the fallen. She understood why, but still something in her heart tugged.

They'd been bewitched by a mad-man, and gave their lives following his edict. To let their graves rot didn’t feel right.

She’d forgiven them, why couldn’t everyone else ?

She’d found herself the unofficial care-taker of Death Eaters' graves. It was a thankless job, one she’d gotten tongue lashings for over the years, but she never stopped her visits.

She cleaned their section,removed graffiti, and repaired any damage done to their headstones.

Every May 2nd, Hermione found herself back in the cemetery, laying flowers across the top of headstones. It wasn’t to honour who they had been while alive, but rather to note the loss of life. To acknowledge they had left this earth and someone, somewhere, missed them.

“Granger?”

She looked over her shoulder, curls whipping against her cheek. Draco Malfoy stood behind her, watching with what she could only assume was curiosity. “Malfoy.”

“What're you doing?”

She looked down at the familiar grave, his family name carved in the stone. She’d paid tribute to his fallen mother on more than one occasion. Hermione laid the bundle of flowers across the tombstone before she turned to face him. “Taking care of what others won’t.”


	7. Something Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Something Blue  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 489  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [anne_ammons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anne_ammons/pseuds/anne_ammons)

She’s in the tub when her head begins hurting. It’s just a dull ache. She looks at her reflection in the mirror, searching for something, but isn’t sure what. 

By the time she has dried off, it is all she can do to sit still as an elf pins up her hair. There’s something familiar about the small creature, but she doesn’t remember seeing her before.

“What’s your name?”

“Tootie, miss.” The elf say softly.

She doesn’t catch how the elf won’t meet her eyes as she helps her get dressed.

When the door opens, the elf instantly pops away. 

“Ah, my bride. It’s time.”

A fragment pushes its way to the forefront and she frowns. “But, the groom isn’t supposed to see the bride before the wedding.”

He laughs. It’s not a comforting sound. “My dear, you know I can’t deny myself the pleasure of your company for very long. Now come. Our eternity awaits.”

She rises instantly, but pauses for a moment to pick up the bouquet laying on her dressing table. Statice. What an odd choice for a bouquet, she thinks, cradling the dry flowers.

She doesn’t see how his eyes narrow as he watches her movements. Upon reaching him, she takes his arm and lets him lead her down the stairs.

With each step her sense of foreboding increases along with the pounding in her head. While her exterior is calm, her insides are roiling. 

_I’ve got to get out. I’ve got to get out._

There aren’t any guests in the sitting room, just an old, tired man whose demeanor suggests that he would rather be anywhere but here.

When the pounding becomes so bad that she can no longer concentrate on the voices around her, she closes her eyes and touches her temple. The feeling that something is very wrong nearly bowls her over.

_I’ve got to get out. I’ve got to get out. I’ve got to…_

A sickly sweet smell permeates her senses and a feeling of calm washes over her. 

She doesn’t remember the voice that was shouting in her mind just a moment ago, but she feels strangely empty without it.

She looks up at the man standing in front of her. His smile is strained as he searches her eyes for something, although she doesn’t know what. Her hand is tight in his grip.

He doesn’t take his eyes off of her as he says to the man standing near them. “Minister, if you would, please repeat that.”

“Ah yes, Hermione Jean Granger, do you take Draco Lucius Malfoy to be your husband?”

She looks down at her white dress and the flowers she carries. The statice is brittle in her hands. It’s her wedding day and her mind tells her that she is getting married to the man she adores.

Statice. Such an odd choice for a bouquet.

Draco squeezes her hand. His voice is firm. “Hermione?” 

“I do.”


	8. To Dobby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: To Dobby  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 498  
> Warning: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [TheLastLynx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLastLynx/pseuds/TheLastLynx)

Just like every year, Hermione, Harry and Ron stood at Dobby's grave, their arms around each other. The sea breeze, stiff and cold as usual for spring, made Hermione's curls dance around her face. The branches of the ever-blooming statice tree someone had planted a few years ago swayed and filled the air with its sweet, calming fragrance.

Harry sighed deeply. Waving his wand, he conjured a wreath of white lilies and laid it gently onto the stone tomb, next to the many others that were already collecting.

Luna had brought the bouquet of daisies, Dean and Seamus the calla, but the blanket of flowers that covered the grave spoke volumes of the place Dobby held as a war hero. Hermione suspected that it had become somewhat of a pilgrimage site for house-elves around the world. Each year, the wreaths had gotten more exotic, and this year his grave was barely visible anymore. 

Hermione conjured an arrangement of bellflowers, and placed it next to Harry’s. The three of them stood in silence. Then they hugged each other and walked, silently, back to Shell Cottage to join the others.

*

They were a raucous bunch at dinner. At first, the Dobby Memorial Party had been a way for them to heal, to replace bad memories with good. But as the years progressed, it wasn’t just their small group that had escaped the Manor anymore; instead, it’d become an opportunity to meet old mates. This anniversary was their own; intimate and without any of the pomp and circumstance that V-Day entailed.

Hermione was glad to see George joking with Angelina and Dean; Luna, Seamus and Neville were deep in discussion, too; and Fleur was conversing with Mr Ollivander and Winky who held little Victoire in her arms.

Hermione touched her neck. The scar didn’t usually give her trouble—only around this time of the year it tended to itch.

Bill sat down next to her, smiling. “I’ve heard congratulations are in order?”

“Oh! Well.” Hermione blushed. “The Wizengamot vote isn’t until next week, so—’

“And yet, even in Gringott’s it’s been making rounds that the great Hermione Granger has achieved the unachievable — freed the house-elves!”

Hermione’s face burned. “I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. Loads could still go wrong and—”

“C’est n’importe quoi!” said Fleur who’d appeared behind her husband. “I ‘ave ‘eard zat you ‘ave convinced even ze zealots about _Dobby’s Law_!”

Hermione caught Harry’s grin, and her cheeks flamed hotter than ever. “Oh. Well… Malfoy isn’t half bad and he was interested in the cause anyway and—” She stopped short when Bill and Fleur exchanged a look. “What is it?”

“Hermione,” said Bill carefully, “don’t you know who planted the sea-lavender at Dobby’s grave?”

Hermione’s heart leapt into her throat. “No!” she breathed. “But—it’s been here for years!”

Bill quirked an eyebrow, smiling knowingly. “Atonement is a long and difficult path…”

Hermione’s head was spinning. Just then, Harry rose and raised his glass.


	9. Experimental

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Experimental  
> Rating: T  
> Word Count: 494  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [NuclearNik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NuclearNik/pseuds/NuclearNik)

Hermione had the unfortunate habit of tuning out the world when she was focused—an excellent thing for when she was at a Quidditch game to be supportive and still needed to study, but not-so-great when she couldn't tear herself away from her textbook as she scurried down the halls of Hogwarts.

Just when she'd gotten to the section on practical application of Ancient Runes, she abruptly halted when she crashed into a solid object, catching herself on the wall.

Blinking away the blurriness from the shock, she peered down to see the worn stone floor littered with colourful bunches of tiny flowers.

Expecting to see Neville, she was utterly perplexed to find the fashionably disheveled form of Draco Malfoy crouching over the mess, grumbling under his breath.

"Now they're contaminated…"

"What?" She shoved her book into her bag and knelt beside him.

"You've ruined my fucking flowers, Granger." He spoke with little bite despite the sharpness of his word choice, though he gave a disdainful sniff in her direction when she tried to help gather the scattered plants.

"If you'd take your swotty little nose out of your precious books for one moment, perhaps you'd be less of a menace to society."

Instead of volleying back with a scathing retort, she was hung up on what he'd said.

" _Your_ flowers? Since when are you into floral arrangements, Malfoy?"

Stopping his movements, he turned to look at her, a sneer twisting his face. "Ha ha. They're for a potion, though I don't see how that's any of your business."

She watched as he hurried to grab the bunches and place them back on the wooden pallet he'd been carrying, his wand forgotten on the floor.

With a smirk, she brandished her own wand. "You do know you're a wizard, right?" Speaking a quiet incantation, she moved all the loose flowers back onto the pallet in just a few seconds.

He stopped his scrabbling, glaring at her with a flush rising to his cheeks, clearly irritated that she'd had the thought to use magic before he did.

Scooping up the pallet, he stood and mumbled something she couldn't understand.

"I'm sorry?"

Jaw tightening until she thought it might crack under the pressure, he ground out, "Thank you."

Hermione couldn't help the smug smile that took over her face. "You're welcome. What are they for?" She'd never heard of a potion that called for statice buds.

It was his turn to look smug. "It's an experimental potion I've been working on.

The academic in her perked up at _experimental_. "How? We aren't supposed to mess around with things like that outside of class."

"If memory serves, Granger, you don't exactly have room to talk about breaking the rules." He began to walk, stopping to glance back at her with a dramatic sigh. "Are you coming or not?" 

Malfoy or otherwise, she couldn't say no to a potential scientific breakthrough, and she hurried behind him, already asking questions.


	10. In a Sea of White

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: In a Sea of White  
> Rating: G  
> Word Count: 482  
> Warnings: N/A
> 
> AUTHOR: [StoneAndRoses](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoneAndRoses/pseuds/StoneAndRoses)

Staring down the aisle Hermione smiled. White lace traced down her arms and back. A flaring skirt reached out in front of her and would float along with her in her journey shortly. The roses in her hand were also white, pearlescent in the sun. Even Hermione’s shoes were a satin, virginal white. It was a mother’s dream.

The only pop of color was in her hair. Purple statice stood out against her dark curls. Ginny had done a fantastic job wrestling them into submission, pulling together intricate braids that wrapped around her head and down her back. The royal purple of the flowers and vibrant green of the leaves meant a lot to her, but ultimately they were for _him_. For _them_. All the white was to please everyone else.

Although they likely could have filled the Manor grounds with countless guests, they had decided as a couple that they wanted a small ceremony. The crowd stood to turn and look at her. She recognized many, but had a difficult time focusing on their faces. Her heart was racing. She was finally getting married. 

But her fiance was not who she was expecting to marry, or who she had imagined she would marry. Everyone expected that she would cement the status of the Golden Trio by marrying Ronald. Following the battle, they quickly realized that they were not a good match, their kiss being a flooding of emotions. There was no passion in everyday life, no spark between them.

As the music struck up and she slowly began approaching the altar, she thought back to her eighth year. She was one of the few that took up the offer to return to school. Many of the eighth years were mandated by the Ministry. 

She made unlikely friends that year, including her love. They were similar but had been opposed for a long time. They were both studious, thirsted for knowledge, and loved healthy debate. But he was frequently still drawn to darkness, an ugly tattoo marring his forearm, so they had kept their relationship a secret. Hermione had not told a soul of what had gone on that year, about the love that had grown in her heart, until recently. She regretted keeping so many secrets from that year.

Hermione finally made it to the end of the aisle, realizing she had zoned out thinking of her history with him. Her walk down the aisle signaled the beginning of the ceremony. As the Ministry official began speaking, she refocused, trying not to shake and show her nerves. She shouldn’t think of _him_.

Instead, she should be focusing on her new love.

“He would be proud of you. I am so proud of you,” her almost husband whispered before the Ministry official asked them to say their vows. 

“I, Harry James Potter, take Hermione Jean Granger…”


End file.
